


don't you want me?

by a_splash_of_stucky



Series: MCU Kink Bingo: Round 2 [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, Frottage, Implied Bottom Bucky, Implied Bottom Steve, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, drunk Bucky, handjobs, or so steve thinks, sad Steve, unrequited pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: What’s tragic about their story is that they can never be together. Steve has accepted the cruel hand that fate has dealt him; he can never have Bucky the way he wants him. That fact tears him apart, every time the thought crosses his mind. Two fellas…that just doesn’t happen, not without its consequences.





	don't you want me?

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this in celebration of my [one-year blogiversary](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/) \- thanks for all the love and support, my darlings!
> 
> This fills my Kink Bingo square "Sex while clothed". Dub-con warning is for Bucky being drunk whilst the sexy shenanigans are going down.

Steve is spending a quiet night at home.

Bucky’s gone out to the dance halls with Sally Murphy, the petite brunette who’s been making eyes at him every Sunday.

Well. Every Sunday that he and Bucky find it within themselves to drag their feet to Mass, at least.

Sally seems nice enough. Her folks used to be on good terms with his ma, so Steve knows her a little. She’s got sweet lips and a pretty smile, kind eyes and dainty little hands that might be fortunate enough to touch his tanned skin toni—

Steve shuts down that line of thinking before it can go any further.

He sighs dejectedly as he slumps into the lumpy couch cushions. His feet are propped up on their rickety coffee table, crossed at the ankles. He watches as his sketchbook slides off his lap and the pencil rolls down the page.

There are some half-finished poster designs on the paper; Mr Parry’s asked him to make a new advertisement for his shop. The poster’s not due for a couple of weeks or so, but Steve’d been feeling creative earlier that evening, so he’d spent some time sketching out a few ideas.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t want to draw up some posters for Mr Parry’s grocery store.

His fingers itch to capture something else on paper – some _one_  else. Steve’s fingers ache to capture the slant of his full lips, the slope his nose, the defined lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the warm glint in his eyes. Steve would draw him all day, if he could.

He’s got a secret sketchbook stashed underneath his mattress, one filled with pages and pages of Bucky, in every way that Steve has seen him. He only works in it when he’s sure that Bucky won’t be home for a while. Steve is fairly certain that Bucky is unaware of its existence, and he is fully intent on keeping things that way.

Because…Bucky’s not like Steve.

Bucky is suave and sure of himself, always ready with a quick one-liner or a suggestive smile. He’s loved by everyone, easily charming people with his good looks and clever words. Bucky goes out dancing, takes girls to see the pictures, lets ‘em kiss his cheek and leave their lipstick stains on his collar.

Steve hates the nights when Bucky comes back home reeking of a dame’s perfume. The thought of him doing – that with someone else makes Steve’s heart clench painfully, in a way that is wholly unrelated to any medical condition that he might have.

Steve’s been gone on Bucky for as long as he can remember, and probably longer still.

What’s tragic about their story is that they can never be together. Steve has accepted the cruel hand that fate has dealt him; he can never have Bucky the way he wants him. That fact tears him apart, every time the thought crosses his mind. Two fellas…that just doesn’t happen, not without its consequences.

Besides, Bucky’s not queer. Steve’s learnt to keep his feelings to himself and tries not to let them bleed into his expression whenever Bucky hooks an arm over his shoulder or climbs into Steve’s bed at night to stop Steve’s teeth from chattering.

The jingle of keys in the front lock pulls Steve out of his pensive state.

Bucky clumsily stumbles through the door, hair rucked up and shirt half untucked. He’s got a dopey smile on his face that makes him look boyishly young.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says easily, setting his sketchbook and pencil on the floor. “Good night?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, just nudges the door shut with his heel, toes off his shoes and comes swaggering over, collapsing onto the couch with a muffled sigh. He’s taking up most of the space, leaning heavily against Steve’s side, cheek resting on Steve’s bony shoulder. On any other night, if Bucky were not this drunk, Steve would snap at him, poke him in the ribs and tell him to clear off, get his own space.

Now, though? Now, Steve just leaves him be, taking comfort in the warm weight of Bucky’s body against his. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the smell of smoke, sweat and whiskey that clings to his clothes. Beneath all that, there is a familiar note that Steve loves; the deep, woody scent of Bucky’s aftershave.

“Should’a come out, Stevie,” Bucky mumbles.

“You know I can’t dance, Buck.”

“Don’t matter,” Bucky murmurs, “Ain’t no fun without you, Stevie.”

“Buck, c’mon,” Steve huffs, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “You know you don’t mean that.”

Bucky straightens up, twisting around until he’s facing Steve. Bucky’s work-roughened palm cradles Steve’s jaw, forcing Steve to look into stormy-grey eyes. “M’serious, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, “Things ain’t fun without you.”

Steve’s breathing hitches. He feels like someone’s pulled the rug out from under his feet and left him flailing, scrabbling for control.  _Don’t look at me like that,_ he thinks desperately.  _When you look at me like that, I start to fall. And the scary thing about falling is that I don’t know if you’ll be there to catch me._

“Bucky—”

Whatever Steve was about to say gets cut off when, without warning, Bucky surges forward, pressing his lips to Steve’s mouth. Steve gasps in surprise and Bucky seizes the opening, licking between Steve’s lips, tasting him. Steve’s pulse skyrockets, heart thumping madly against his ribs. His head is spinning – and not entirely in a good way. Multiple conflicting feelings are warring inside his head, battling for control.

Steve manages to plant his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, using his grip to forcibly shove Bucky back. He twists his head to the side, wrenching their lips apart. Steve scrambles backwards, pressing himself into the corner of the couch, drawing his knees up to his chest protectively.

“Bucky, what the hell’s gotten into you?” he hisses, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Bucky frowns, bottom lip jutting out as he considers the question. “I want you,” Bucky says, shrugging one shoulder. “Wanna be with you.”

“Bucky we  _can’t_ ,” Steve says, trying to reason with him. His brain is struggling to parse Bucky’s words and actions, unable to cope with Bucky’s sudden declaration of want.

“Sure we can, Stevie,” Bucky insists, reaching out, trying to catch Steve’s hand. 

“Don’t touch me!” Steve snaps.

He immediately regrets his harsh tone when the smile abruptly drops from Bucky’s face.

“Don’t—don’t…just…don’t,” Steve sighs. He drags his hand down his face tiredly. Steve wills his heart to calm down, wills himself to think clearly, wills himself to not dwell on the crestfallen expression on Bucky’s features. He swallows nervously.

“I’m…gonna head to bed,” he says hoarsely, getting up from the couch. “You…g’night, Bucky.”

Steve doesn’t wait to hear Bucky’s answer, just strides briskly to their shared bedroom. His heart is still pounding in his chest, pulse ringing in his ears. He strips down to his undershirt and drawers, leaving the rest of his clothes in a messy pile on the floor. Steve gets into bed and pulls the thin sheets up around him as he turns to face the wall.

When Steve hears Bucky stumbling through the door, Steve tenses, squeezing his eyes shut as he holds his breath. He will not roll over, he tells himself resolutely. He will not acknowledge Bucky’s presence, he will just wait to see what Bucky does. When Steve strains his ears, he hears the soft rustle of clothes falling to the floor, the quiet tinkle of Bucky taking off his belt.  

Steve gasps in shock when his mattress dips under the weight of a second body. As Bucky climbs into his bed, he throws an arm over Steve’s waist and slings his leg over Steve’s thigh, preventing him from escaping. The bed creaks ominously under their combined weight.

“What the f _uck_ are you doin’?” Steve says angrily, trying to squirm out of Bucky’s grip.

“Tryna say sorry,” Bucky mumbles, pulling Steve to his chest. “C’mon, Steve, I—”

“Get  _off_ me, asshole!” Steve hisses, elbowing Bucky in the sternum. Bucky grunts in pain, but his hold remains firm. Steve growls impatiently.

“Alright, fine,” Steve sighs, “I forgive ya’, you happy now? Gonna leave me alone?”

“Nu-uh,” Bucky says, pressing his face between Steve’s shoulder blades. “I was serious, Steve. Am serious.”

Steve’s heart skips a beat. “About…what?” he croaks, licking his lips nervously. 

“’Bout wantin’ you,” Bucky replies. “Want you so bad, Stevie, s’ drivin’ me crazy.”

Steve closes his eyes and inhales shakily, trying to force his heart to calm down. “Buck,” he says, voice trembling. “Buck—Bucky, you can’t say things like that when you don’t—”

“When I don’t  _what_ , Steve?” Bucky hisses, tightening his grip minutely. “When I don’t mean it? Huh? You think m’ just jokin’?”

Firm fingers grasp Steve’s chin, forcing him to turn, to look Bucky in the eyes. “I ain’t jokin’ ‘bout this, Stevie,” he says fervently. “I want you. I need you--so bad, sweetheart.”

“Bucky,” Steve says helplessly, shaking his head no as wetness pools in the corners of his eyes.

His heart is threatening to split into two; one part of him aches to be with Bucky, whilst the rational side of him knows that if he gives in to his desires, all he’ll have left is regret.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, inching closer, his warm breath fanning out over Steve’s face. Steve can smell the sour traces of whiskey on him.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me ‘Buck, stop, you’re drunk outta your mind, go away’ and I’ll go, Steve, I swear on my ma.”

Steve wants to.

No, he doesn’t want to, but he knows that he should. He imagines his mouth forming the words, imagines himself echoing Bucky’s sentence.

He knows what he  _should_  do, but he can’t do it.

He can’t do it.

“I can’t,” Steve whispers, the tension draining out of him. “I  _can’t_ —Bucky, I can’t.”

“I don’t wanna go,” Bucky tells him, pressing his lips to Steve’s jaw – not kissing him, just letting Steve feel them on his skin. “I wanna be right here, with my best guy.”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, turning in Bucky’s grip, craning his neck around so that their lips can meet.

This kiss is softer, sweeter, gentler than the one they shared on the couch, though no less impassioned. They explore each other slowly, learning the taste and feel of each other’s mouths with curious tongues. Bucky tastes like heaven – the sour taste of whiskey clings to his breath, but beneath that is a musky, heady flavour that Steve cannot describe.

Bucky moans against him, inching his hips closer. A rush of dizziness runs through Steve’s head when he feels the bulge of Bucky’s cock bump into him. Bucky, like Steve, is clad only in his undershirt and drawers and the thin material does nothing to hide his erection. It’s a hot line that presses against Steve’s ass, big and intimidating and unfamiliar, but exciting in its own way. Steve can feel his own cock hardening between his legs. All the blood in his body is rushing south, leaving him light-headed and breathless.

Steve pushes his sheets down, allowing Bucky to press in tighter, pulling Steve to his chest. A low groan bubbles out of Steve’s mouth when Bucky skirts a hand underneath the hem of his undershirt, teasing the skin of his belly. Steve winds his fingers into Bucky’s hair, holding him in place so that he can curl his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, hot and wet and dirty. Bucky grunts his approval.

A full-body shudder runs through Steve as Bucky slides a callused hand up his bony torso. Steve gasps when he flicks his nail across the hard nub of his nipple; Bucky hungrily swallows the sound with his mouth.

Rationally, Steve knows that this is a terrible idea. He’s come up with his fair share of bad ideas over the course of his life, but this has got to be one of the stupidest. Steve is going to resent himself so much when morning breaks – but that’s a problem for his future self to deal with. Maybe preparing for the worst is a little pessimistic of him, but he knows that Bucky isn’t queer, so Steve’s not about to get his hopes up. No matter what Bucky says, Steve is certain that Bucky doesn’t mean a word he’s saying.

But, Steve’s been aching to taste his lips for as long as he can remember. He’s been dying to know what Bucky’s hands feel like on his skin, touching him like lovers do. If this is all that Steve gets, then he’ll take it gladly, hold the memory close to his heart and treasure it for the rest of his days.

Steve is now painfully hard in his drawers. A wet spot is starting to form at the front, because his dick is leaking like a faucet. Bucky cups him gently, causing Steve to groan. His hand is so  _warm_ , even through the fabric of his drawers. Steve arches into the touch, eager for more friction on his needy cock.

“ _Bucky_ ,” he moans, as Bucky closes his fist around Steve’s shaft and starts to pump his hand. “Buck, Bucky—Bucky, oh, oh—”

“Shh, baby,” Bucky whispers, sucking wet kisses along the column of Steve’s throat. “Don’t wan’ the neighbours ta’ hear us, Stevie. Gotta be quiet for me, can you do that?”

Steve nods fervently, biting his bottom lip to stifle his moans.

Bucky growls, tightening his grip around Steve’s cock. Steve jerks into his fist. “Yeah, sugar, that’s it,” Bucky rumbles, “Lemme make you feel good.”

Steve turns his head to the side, nosing along the hinge of Bucky’s jaw. Bucky hums, tilting his head down and capturing Steve’s lips in another scorching hot kiss. As Bucky works him over with his hand, Steve can feel Bucky rolling his hips, grinding his cock against Steve’s ass. For a dizzying moment, Steve wonders what this’d feel like if they were naked, what Bucky’s cock would feel like rubbing against his sweat-slick skin.

When the need for air becomes too immense, Bucky pulls his lips away from Steve’s mouth. He trails a line of wet kisses along Steve’s cheek, making Steve shiver with arousal.

“Ya’ sound so pretty for me, Stevie,” Bucky pants. His wicked tongue traces the shell of Steve’s ear and his teeth playfully nibble on Steve’s earlobe.

“Wanna taste you,” Bucky rasps, “Wanna get my mouth on you and find out what your cock tastes like,  _Christ_ , I wan’ it so bad. Wanna get in you – my fingers and my tongue and my cock, make you come all over me.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve whines, thrusting his hips into Bucky’s fist. The friction on his cock is delicious, quickly bringing him to the edge of release. Bucky’s palm is tight and warm and fucking  _perfect_ , so damn perfect — it’s driving Steve crazy.

“Wan’ you to get in me,” Bucky murmurs heatedly, his mouth on a roll, now. “Oh, Stevie, sugar, babydoll, I bet you’d feel so good – this cock inside me? Mmm.”

“Fuck,” Steve bites out, humping Bucky’s hand frantically.

“Imagine it, sugar,” Bucky says hotly, breath warm on the back of Steve’s neck. “I’d be all tight and hot around you – I’d give it to you good, Stevie, show you a real good time.”

“Buck—Bucky,  _fuck_ , yes, don’t stop,  _Christ_ ,” Steve pants, his body trembling as his orgasm starts to build in earnest.

“I’d let you come inside me Stevie,” Bucky tells him, as he grinds his hard cock against Steve’s ass more insistently. “No rubber, nothin’ between you an’ me, just let you wet me up inside, leave me all sticky and messy -- I’d let’cha watch it leak outta me, after.”

The image that Bucky paints in his mind is too vivid, too real, too  _much_. Steve stuffs his hand into his mouth and bites down on his knuckles to choke back his shout of pleasure as his climax rips through his body. His cock spurts hot and sticky ropes of come that dirty up the inside of his underwear. Bucky strokes him through it, fist tight around his cock, milking out every last bit of release. Steve is vaguely aware of Bucky’s lips pressing against his shoulder, that incorrigible mouth of his murmuring dirty promises into Steve’s skin.

“ _Christ_ , Jesus -- Stevie, that was so hot, you’re so hot, babydoll,” Bucky moans, peppering kisses along Steve’s jaw as Steve comes down from his high, his chest heaving with exertion.

Bucky crowds in closer, using his bulk to roll Steve onto his stomach. Steve is loose-limbed and pliant after his orgasm, so he goes easily, letting Bucky climb on top of him. He winces as his come smears across his belly, but finds that he can’t bring himself to care all that much about the stickiness. Bucky drapes over him like a warm blanket, legs bracketing Steve’s thighs, chest pressed to Steve’s back, cock poking into the swell of Steve’s buttocks.

“Want you so bad, Stevie, you make me so crazy,” Bucky says breathily, “ _Fuck_ , you make me crazy, doll.”

His lips are warm against the back of Steve’s neck, breath coming out in harsh pants as he rubs off on Steve. His hips are rutting frantically against Steve’s ass, cock pressing hard and insistent. Steve tries to get his knees under himself, tries to push back against Bucky, but Bucky’s weight pins him to the mattress, so all he can do is lie there while Bucky chases his release.

“Fuck,  _baby_ , you’re so  _good_ ,” Bucky moans, tongue darting out to taste Steve’s skin.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat. “C’mon, Buck,” he breathes, “C’mon, Bucky, wan’ you ta’ come.”

“Steve,” Bucky chokes out, pressing his forehead into the space between Steve’s shoulders.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it,” Steve coaxes, “Made me feel so good, Buck, now you gotta take care’a yourself, c’mon. Let go.”

Bucky’s chanting his name under his breath like a prayer, lips moving against the thin cotton of Steve’s undershirt.

“Come for me, Bucky,” Steve whispers.

Bucky tightens his grip around Steve’s body as he comes with a pained grunt. His body trembles as his climax ripples through him and his harsh panting fills Steve’s ears. Steve can feel the warmth and wetness of Bucky’s release seeping into the back of his drawers and that causes a shiver of naughty excitement to run down his spine.

When Bucky’s managed to catch his breath, he coordinates himself for long enough to roll off Steve and strip off his drawers. Steve follows suit, pulling off his own drawers and using a dry spot on the soiled garment to wipe the come off his stomach, before throwing the pair onto the floor. He’s half-tempted to send Bucky over to his own bed, but he looks so peaceful with his head on Steve’s pillow that Steve can’t find it in himself to kick him out. With a sigh, he draws the sheets over them and curls into Bucky’s chest, taking comfort in the familiarity of Bucky’s warmth at this back.

There’ll be hell to pay come morning light, but that’s a problem he’ll deal with tomorrow.  

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable version](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/177356105005/dont-you-want-me/)
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcomed!


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